shrapnel
by Questmun
Summary: (RWBYQUEST) - Truth and beauty are wonderful words, but shrapnel is shrapnel and at the end of the day I am alone with the things I have done. Drabble of Glynda's small existence in the entity's shadow.


Days were long when there was nothing to do but wait. There was no indication of the days passing, as there was no sun to be seen – nothing but darkness outside the windows.

Deep, deep inside that creature's mind, a trace of her lingered. When it stared out through the window, trying to make sense of what it saw, she was there, in the darkest recesses of its mind, watching.

She was almost relieved when it got its big claw hand on a book and started flipping through it. They were lucky that its thick arm had been too thick for the shackle – much thicker than her own slim wrist, the entity's arm had broken the metal apart as it grew. The thing seemed to have a thirst for knowledge – or, at the very least, a thirst to relieve its boredom. She watched through its blurry eyes as it searched around the desk for something. A big hand reached out, and with a more delicate motion than she thought the being capable of, it picked up her glasses. Carefully, the thing held the glasses to its face, peering through them, finding its vision much clearer. It was satisfied. Very gently, it managed to hook the glasses onto its horns, leaving its arm free to turn the pages of the book – the glasses tilted downwards dramatically, and the entity leaned its head back to stare down at the book through the lenses. It was a rather awkward affair, but it worked.

For three days, it sat like that, reading without pause. For three days, it kept her awake. She knew this poor entity was suffering – it was her fault that it had been born with this affliction, it was her fault, and she knew exactly what was wrong. By their side, the other entity slept soundly. For three painfully restless days it sat there, its twin slumbering peacefully. After three days, the creature that had replaced her finally passed out, falling asleep regardless of circumstances.

Glynda Goodwitch had never guessed that everything could get so much worse from there.

When Zugzwang Blunder Queen was taken from her by the power of sleep, everything went black. She saw and heard nothing. It was neither cold nor hot, and she couldn't feel any semblance of gravity or ground beneath her feet. She stood in the void, feeling like she was floating, feeling like she was _nothing_. A true sensation, upon reflection. Glynda Goodwitch had been erased. Well, mostly. By some sick trick of the universe, this shred of her remained – weak and flickering, but there and real and _her_.

Oddly, Glynda felt much clearer now that Zugzwang slept. The fog in her mind dissipated slowly. She felt stronger. She grew, regaining influence and autonomy, her recently dull emotions brightening, becoming vivid and wild. She almost felt like an actual person again.

Her first response was not relief. It was not happiness. It was despair.

Awareness did her no good. She felt more trapped than ever, suffocating in the darkness of the entity's dozing mind. Her breath tore through her throat in sharp, quick heaves, and she wanted to cry and scream but neither tears nor sound escaped her. She clutched at herself – her arms, her face, her head, wringing her hands together, hugging herself, panicking. With every aching breath she cursed, throwing blame every which way, the words spilling out of her in bursts. She blamed Ozpin for starting this mess in the first place, she cursed the universe for placing her in this horrible limbo between life and death, but above all, more than anything, she hated herself for being an accomplice in the headmaster's insane game. She could have stopped this, she was sure of it. She could have put an end to it, nipped it in the bud, before any of this happened. She could've done something. _Anything_. Even walking out for good would've been better than doing nothing.

Instead she had chosen to stand idly by and watch – not encouraging, by any means, but in no way even attempting to stop what was happening. Glynda Goodwitch was guilty by association and inaction. Allowing this to happen, fully knowing what was going on, fully knowing the consequences – standing by and quietly allowing it was just a big a sin as Ozpin's. And now, thanks to her, only her, this was happening. And she was trapped.

She wanted nothing more than to be choked out again, for Zugzwang, or whoever, _anyone_, to push her back down under the surface and stifle her emotions. She had a vague memory of hearing a voice before, a voice that did just that. A firm hand on the back of her head, ensuring her face was well below water. The drowning voice. She saw no reason to fight it anymore. She would rather be dead.

Her thoughts were falling apart, racing too quickly for her to keep up. Once so put-together and collected, Glynda Goodwitch was no longer able to control her emotions, hyperventilating, sobbing now, but choking. It was hard to breathe, like her throat was closing up. The dread that filled her was unlike anything she had experienced before; an experienced huntress, she had faced many mortal enemies in her time – but none so mortal as herself.

In the back of Zugzwang Blunder Queen's mind, Glynda Goodwitch was alone with herself and her choices. It was all too welcome when Zugzwang stirred again, the entity's consciousness rising to stifle hers, drowning her out again. As she faded, she watched the world come back, darkness shifting away to give way to the office and books yet again. She faded, knowing that the entity would sleep again, or she would resurface on her own, and it all would start again.


End file.
